Funny how some things come together with no planning or scheduling. They fall into place, drawing you in with the ease of being bowled over by a balmy tropical wave.

That is how the lunar eclipse was a few days ago. I heard some snippets on the news about a full eclipse, and how it would not happen again until 2007. In the back of my mind there was a little voice saying “Oh that would be lovely to see…”, but in the cauldron of work that had kept me embroiled for many weeks, I quickly forgot about it and rolled full steam ahead into my day.

That night I drove home in the same sort of daze that makes you blink about five miles down the road with no recollection of how you got there. Headlights blurring slightly, the familiar curves and straightaways guided me across the valley floor, over the bridge, and up the hill to home.

Once there, with shoes kicked off and no plan for dinner yet, both hubby and the dog reminded me that we had agreed to go for a walk after work. With the brisk winds coming down off the snowcapped Cascades, and dark falling early - we’d have a chilly, starlit stroll to snap us out of the work week doldrums.

It wasn’t until I was putting on my walking shoes that I remembered the eclipse. A peek out the window showed a heavy moon already in a partial stage of shadow, suspended low over the north-eastern horizon. I realized we would be walking beneath the lunar eclipse, on a perfectly clear night… with no other demands on us other than to simply enjoy the moment as it unfolded.

So, heading out with huffs of breath visible in the cold air around all three of us, we set a comfortable pace heading east, the moon leading the way. The blur of the day suddenly focused, with frosty woodsmoke air filling my lungs, and the scattering of stars all so distinct in the sky. Full awareness came to me, and I could easily recall every step we took as we strolled down the road.

The conversation ebbed and flowed, and I kept glancing up as the shadow slowly slid across the face of the moon. It was a strange thought, knowing that it was *our* shadow I was seeing. That somewhere in the darkness, we were walking… footsteps on Earth, as well as the moon. I counted the time forward to various parts of the world, imagining who was waking to the sunrise, and who was already fast asleep. All the while, the stars grew brighter as the lamp of the moon dimmed.

It wasn’t until we were returning home that we stopped and watched as the last thin sliver of light disappeared from the moon, leaving only a ruddy hue made by the simultaneous sunrise and sunset on each side of the Earth.

I felt very small there, with my dog and husband… staring wide eyed up into the heavens. I wondered who was watching it at the same time we were.

A shiver slipped along my spine to imagine all the things happening in the world, both good and bad… all compressed into that one turn of the shadow, which looked so lovely from afar. A vast sea of activity, backlit by the sun, and imprinted upon the moon in a slow celestial dance.

The chilled wind worked in past our sweatshirts and jeans, and at last we turned our backs to the dusky moon and retreated into the house. A tiny spot on a planet swinging ever onward to the next eclipse, with no idea what might fill the quiet shadow when next it arrives, like clockwork.